


Ineffectual Methods

by Scrawlers



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, takes place during Battle City just before the pier duel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 04:50:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17016069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlers/pseuds/Scrawlers
Summary: Before Malik used the Millennium Rod on Anzu, he used Rishid to try and get some information out of her. Well, Rishid and one other.





	Ineffectual Methods

**Author's Note:**

> This was written years ago, but in light of Tumblr being . . . Tumblr, I've decided to archive everything here.

In movies, characters often cited television dramas for teaching them how to get out of sticky situations. As her wrists chafed against the ropes that held her hands bound behind the back of the chair, Anzu cursed every single movie that had ever lied to her about the authenticity of television, at least when it came to slipping out of wrist binds.

 _It’s way easier for the girls on TV,_ she thought savagely.

In retrospect, Anzu figured that perhaps it hadn’t been the wisest idea to follow Namu to the docks for Jounouchi’s dueling demonstration. He hadn’t been wrong when he said that would give them plenty of space free from other duelists, and she knew it wasn’t  _his_ fault that gangs were apparently using the docks as their turf, but when she thought of any other location in Domino they could have used—the park, the public square,  _anywhere_ that was more densely populated by people who could have helped them—she couldn’t help but wish she’d had the common sense to speak out against his idea and suggest they go somewhere,  _anywhere_ else.

But they hadn’t. Instead, they’d followed Namu past the warehouses that led to the pier, and the moment they rounded the second building they were jumped by men in dark cloaks and separated. Two men apiece had dragged off Anzu and Namu, and the last Anzu saw, it had taken  _four_ to subdue Jounouchi—and even then, Anzu was pretty sure she’d seen one of them draw a gun. He hadn’t been holding it in a way that was conducive to firing, she didn’t think, and she never did hear a gunshot go off, but her skin felt clammy and nausea roiled in her stomach when she thought about it, and so she did her best to focus on the ropes they’d tied around her wrists. Jounouchi was okay, she was sure of it. He was fine. He was made of tougher stuff than any street gang in horror manga costumes, no matter what weapon they had. Anzu pulled more aggressively at the ropes that bound her wrists, and winced when she felt them cut deeper into her skin. They hurt terribly, but if she could just get her hands free—

The door across the room opened, and Anzu blinked rapidly the sudden light, momentarily blinded. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that she only had one visitor, and while her first instinct was to draw herself up as much as possible so she could give her captor a piece of her mind, relief made her muscles sag when she saw who it was.

“Jounouchi! Oh thank god, I’m so glad you’re okay.” Anzu smiled at him as he crossed the room to her. It was hard to make out the details of his face given that the light was at his back, but that was all right; she could envision his cocky grin well enough for herself. “I mean, I figured you would be—it’ll take more than a couple of punks to take you down, right?—but I was still kind of . . . well, it doesn’t matter now. Hey, help me with these ropes, would you?”

Jounouchi stopped in front of her chair and stared down at her, unmoving. Anzu gave the ropes around her wrists another tug—no dice, and now she was sure she could feel a bit of sticky wetness around the ropes, as if she’d finally chafed hard enough to draw blood—and frowned at him. “Hey, Jounouchi? Did you hear what I said? I need help with the ropes.” 

Still he only stared at her, and Anzu sighed, fighting to keep the impatience out of her voice. “They tied my wrists behind my back, see?” she said, and she made a failed attempt to pull her arms forward to prove it. “I can’t undo the knot like this, so I need help. Even if you don’t have a knife or anything like that on you, you’d have a much easier job of it than me, I’m sure of it.” Seconds passed, and the silence in the room made Anzu suddenly aware of the force of her own pulse. She swallowed, and leaned forward a bit to try to look beneath Jounouchi’s bangs, into his eyes. “Jounouchi?” she tried again, more tentatively this time. “Hey, come on, answer me. Is everything okay? Did they hurt you?”

No response. That, more than anything—more than the way she was becoming more and more aware of the fact that he was staring at her without actually  _seeing_ her, more than the fact that he’d been there for five minutes and no one had yet pursued him—told her that something was wrong. Jounouchi, in all the time she’d known him, was a blabbermouth. He always had  _something_ to say, some sort of commentary on the situation, or a potentially unfounded boast, or a joke that was at least kind of funny even if it crossed a line or two. It wasn’t like him to be this quiet, and it certainly wasn’t like him to refuse to help one of his friends, particularly when said friend was practically begging him for it. 

Anzu opened her mouth to call to him again, to ask him what had happened, when he suddenly tilted his head to the side, as if listening to something. A flicker of something—recognition? understanding?—flickered across his face, and before Anzu had a chance to question it he walked around to crouch down behind her chair.

“Finally,” Anzu said, but even as she felt his fingers brush against her wrists and untie the ropes she couldn’t bring herself to relax. He still hadn’t said anything, and his expression was as blank as it had been before. Still, she tried to force cheer into her voice. Optimism had never hurt them before. “What took you so long, huh? I know you’re not the brightest in our class, but you’ve never been  _slow_.”

Jounouchi ignored the playful jibe. The ropes fell away from her wrists and Anzu immediately brought her arms forward, examining the damage as feeling melted back into her shoulders. Her wrists were marred by angry red weals where the ropes had been, but contrary to what she’d thought before, she at least hadn’t broken her skin. She gently massaged her wrists, and winced as they stung at her touch, but she had hardly more time than that to consider it before Jounouchi grabbed her upper arm and hauled her out of the chair.

“Hey—watch it! No need to be so rough!” Anzu said. Jounouchi ignored her as he started to pull her toward the door. “I know we need to go, but I can stand up on my own, you know. It was my wrists they had tied, not my ankles. And for that matter, I can walk on my own, too, so you can let go now.” Still he showed no sign that he’d heard her, and so Anzu pulled against him, digging her feet into the warehouse floor. She stumbled as he yanked her forward. “Jounouchi! Let me go!”

Jounouchi didn’t so much as look back. Anzu gritted her teeth against the sudden shot of adrenaline that ran through her, and as they reached the door she hooked her other arm and right foot against the wall, hoping to use that as added leverage to force him to let go of her. Jounouchi tried to pull her through, and gave a yank when she refused to budge, but Anzu dug her nails into the door frame.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped, and relaxed against the door frame only marginally when he stopped to look back at her. “I said I can handle it, so you don’t need to drag me. Let me go and we can leave together.”

He stared at her a moment more before he gave another rough pull, and the surprise of it caught Anzu off guard. Her hands slipped from the door frame and she was pulled from the room, and the moment he had her in the hallway he shifted his hold so that he was gripping her forearm with his left hand instead. With right hand on her other arm, Jounouchi twisted her left arm up and behind her back. Anzu couldn’t help crying out.

“Ow—Jounouchi, what are you—you’re  _hurting_ me!” Anzu clamped her teeth around another hiss of pain as he pushed her forward, his grip just as tight as before. Anzu could walk fine, but she knew that if she twisted against his hold even a little, she risked her arm breaking. “Why are you doing this? Let me go!”

Still he ignored her, and for the first time since she’d met him—

Anzu had never been afraid of Jounouchi before. She’d known him since the start of the school year, when they were first put in the same homeroom, and he spent most of his time talking with Honda or else tormenting Yuugi. She’d known back then that he was a punk—it wasn’t at all unusual to see him come to school with fresh bruises or scrapes, and the fact that he picked on Yuugi alone was enough to make her write him off her “worth associating with” list, at least back then. But even before they’d become friends—even before she learned that he had the ever-cliché heart of gold beneath his rough exterior—she’d never been afraid of him. Somehow she’d known that whatever fights he got into outside of school, or however tough he may have seemed, he wouldn’t actually hurt her. It was part of the reason why she’d never had any qualms about standing up to him to defend Yuugi. She would have anyway, of course—no one was going to hurt one of her friends on  _her_ watch—but on some level Anzu had known that no matter how much she snapped at Jounouchi or got in his face, he’d never so much as push her, let alone actually hurt her. 

Now tears stung at the corners of her eyes as he pushed her roughly around a corner, a sharp spike of pain arcing up her shoulder. For the first time since she’d known him she was keenly aware of just how much stronger than her he was, just how much he could actually hurt her if he wanted to. Something was still wrong—she knew that, she knew that this wasn’t really  _him_ , that there was something going on with him that he just wasn’t saying—but that didn’t make her arm feel any better.

They finally reached another room at what must have been the far end of the warehouse. The door was already open, and as they reached it Jounouchi pushed her forward, releasing her only so that she could stumble into the room. Anzu massaged her sore shoulder, and paid the room only scant attention as she looked back at Jounouchi. He’d followed her into the room, as impassive as ever, and from the other side of the threshold she saw two robed men shut the doors behind him.

“Hey! Open the door!” Anzu shouted, and she bolted back toward the doors, only for Jounouchi to raise one arm and block her. Her shout for the robed men not to lock them in died in her throat, and Anzu pulled away before she made contact with his arm. She glared furiously at him. “Don’t tell me you did this on purpose,” she said. “Don’t tell me you let them lock us in here on  _purpose_. What was even the point of untying me if you were just going to get us captured again, you idiot?”

“So he could bring you to me.”

Anzu’s blood ran cold at the sound of the deep voice, and she whipped around to see what she’d ignored when Jounouchi had first pushed her in. 

The “room” was less a room and more an indoor shipyard. The center of the floor was completely cut away to allow for sea water, which Anzu could tell would naturally flow out to the harbor when the gigantic steel doors—which at the moment more closely resembled a wall—on the other side parted to allow it. It was hard to tell just how large the cutaway portion was due to the massive ship that rested dead center, the stern to them. But while the ship was impressive, Anzu found she had eyes only for the man who stood at its base. Like the others, he was wearing a coal grey cloak, though he had his hood pushed back. But it wasn’t the cloak that kept her attention; though she knew it was rude, and could practically hear her conscience scolding her in her mother’s voice for it, Anzu found herself staring at the intricate scars that covered one half of the man’s dark face.

“Who are you?” she demanded, but her dry throat made her voice crack, lessening the impact. She swallowed in a fight to make her voice stronger. “And what do you want with me?”

“My name is Malik,” the man said. His voice was deep—smooth—and just as eerily calm as Jounouchi had been since he’d entered her room. “I want information, and I trust that you will be able to give it to me.”

Anzu scoffed. “Yeah, right. The only thing I’ll give you is a strong hit to your kneecaps,” she said. Malik didn’t laugh, but he didn’t seem to take her threat seriously, either. Instead he watched her, his arms folded beneath his cloak, and Anzu turned to Jounouchi. “Now would be a really good time for you to wake up and come to your senses,” she hissed.

Jounouchi stared straight ahead. Anzu followed his line of sight to see that while he wasn’t looking at her, he wasn’t looking at Malik, either. Instead, he seemed to be staring at the boat, and in the improved light of the shipyard, his eyes looked deadened. Anzu felt a thread of sick fear slip through her, and she swatted at his arm. Nothing. No response.

“Jounouchi, come on,” she said, and she tried to make her voice less pleading and more demanding, though she wasn’t so sure she succeeded. “Snap out of it! Say something, do something—something,  _anything_!”

“You’re wasting your energy,” Malik said, and Anzu turned back to him, her fingers curled into shaking fists at her sides. He looked almost bored as he watched. “He won’t speak or act without orders.”

“ _Orders_?” Anzu repeated, and when Malik nodded, she snorted. “Come off it. Jounouchi doesn’t listen to  _orders_.” She turned back to Jounouchi, and flung one hand in Malik’s direction. “Tell him,” she said, and when he stood as lifeless as ever, she looked back at Malik in triumph. “See?”

“ _Your_ orders aren’t the ones he is waiting for,” Malik said, and his eyes flicked past her to Jounouchi as he said, “Isn’t that right, Jounouchi?”

“Yes, master,” Jounouchi intoned, and Anzu wheeled around to face him again. Her body felt suddenly numb.

“ _Master_? Jounouchi, what . . .” He didn’t look at her, didn’t so much as blink. He only continued to stand there, staring straight ahead _._ He was quiet. Still.  _Obedient._ Three words which should have never been used to describe Jounouchi—which _couldn’t_ , in any reasonable universe, _ever_ be used to describe him—and Anzu felt the disoriented horror that had filled her be replaced by cold fury as she looked back to Malik, her blood pounding in her ears.

“What did you do to him?” she hissed, and her anger gave her the strength to shout as she amended, “What the  _hell_ have you done?!”

“The same as will be done to you, in time. But first, I believe you have information that may prove useful.” 

“Even if I do, I don’t have anything I’m willing to share with you,” Anzu snapped. She reached out and took Jounouchi’s wrist, but he jerked his arm to knock her hand free. “Jounouchi, come on,” she said in an undertone. “Just listen to me. Trust me—whatever he did to you, whatever it is, we can fix it, but we have to get out of here first. Come with me.” She tried to take his hand again, but once more he batted hers away. “ _Jounouchi_!”

“I already told you: The only orders he will listen to are mine,” Malik said. Anzu looked up as he started toward her, and on instinct she started to back toward the door. “Anzu Mazaki. You are friends with Yuugi Mutou, correct?”

“How do you know my name?” Anzu asked instead. “For that matter, how did you know Jounouchi’s?How do you know  _either_ of us, and why have you brought us here?”

“None of that is any of your concern,” Malik said. “Answer my question, please.”

“You first,” Anzu snapped. She reached behind her, her fingers grasping for the door, but turning up nothing but empty air. She hated to leave Jounouchi behind, but if he wouldn’t come with her, there was no choice. She’d have to come back for him—with reinforcements, next time.

“I’m afraid that is not how this is going to work,” Malik said. “Jounouchi. Prevent her from leaving.”

Anzu spun on the ball of her foot and ran for the door, but Jounouchi was faster. He crossed the warehouse in loping strides that were far quicker than he’d been at any point since he had untied her, and grabbed her by her upper arms again, pulling her back against his chest. Anzu struggled against his hold, and his fingers squeezed her so as not to let her slip out of his grasp, but his grip mercifully wasn’t painfully tight this time.

“Bring her back,” Malik said, and Jounouchi dutifully pulled her away from the door. This time, Anzu knew better than to struggle, though her muscles were tense as Jounouchi guided her back to where Malik stood.

“Let us try this again,” Malik said. “You are friends with Yuugi Mutou. Is that correct?”

“Oh, like you don’t know that?” Anzu said. Somehow, even though he was restraining her in front of the enemy, Jounouchi’s hold seemed to give her courage. “You seem to know everything else about us, so don’t tell me you don’t know that, too. What do you want with Yuugi?”

“I want many things with Yuugi Mutou,” Malik said, and while Anzu didn’t make much of a practice out of fighting, she was quite sure that she had never wanted to hit someone so badly in her life.

“If you so much as go  _near_ him, I’ll—”

“What?” Malik asked, and his tone sounded genuinely curious. “Suppose my Ghouls have already located him. What do you plan to do in response?”

Anzu licked her lips. She could feel herself shaking. She hated this, every part of this. She hated that they had been ambushed, she hated that she hadn’t been able to do much to fight back, she hated that she’d lost Jounouchi, she hated that she might yet lose Yuugi, too—

“I’ll figure something out,” she said finally.

Unexpectedly, Malik laughed. The sound was a deep rumble, and even in its brevity it sounded strangely warm. “I like you,” he said. “You are a good person.”

Anzu gave him a disparaging look. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No,” he said. “It was merely an observation.” His smile faded, replaced by the same cold look he’d been giving her the entire time. “Now, I have one more question for you. You—and therefore, Yuugi—have other friends. My Ghouls tell me their names are Hiroto Honda and Ryou Bakura. Do you know where they are?”

“No,” Anzu said firmly.

“Are you lying?”

“You’re the one who apparently has some sort of control or power over people’s minds,” Anzu said, and she jerked her head back toward Jounouchi, to prove her point. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Malik stared at her a moment more, his expression inscrutable, before he turned away. “Very well,” he said, as he paced back toward the ship. “I regret that it has come to this, but in the end I suppose there was no other option. Whether you cooperated or not, this was always to be the result in the end.” He paused by the ship before he added, “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

“You’re  _sorry_?” Anzu said, and she huffed a short laugh, incredulous. “You’re  _sorry_ that you kidnapped me, brainwashed one of my best friends, are apparently  _hunting_ the oth . . . ers . . .”

The tension melted from Anzu’s body, and she was distantly aware that if Jounouchi wasn’t holding her, she might have collapsed. She could hardly feel his touch on her arms; the shipyard around her seemed to blur, the colors fading. She could still see the massive ship before her, could still tell that she was standing on concrete, but it all seemed dull, uninteresting—inconsequential. Nothing she saw mattered. Nothing she  _felt_ mattered. Nothing she saw, nothing she felt, nothing she heard, she thought . . . she thought . . .

Nothing. Jounouchi released her, or maybe he didn’t, but she couldn’t bring herself to focus on him long enough to see. A laugh sounded in her head using a voice that did not belong to her. 

 _“So nice of you to finally join us, Anzu,”_ the voice said.  _“I do hope you’re ready to play your part.”_

The voice . . . the voice made sense. It was worth listening to. She nodded. “Yes,” she said softly. 

She felt a faint sense of triumph, but like the voice, she knew it did not belong to her.

 _“Excellent,”_ the voice said.  _“Now come along, to the ship. Just like with any other performance, you need to attend rehearsal first.”_

First rehearsal, then recital. She could not recall how she knew that, but she knew that it was right. The voice was right, and she should listen. 

She started toward the ship, only vaguely aware of Jounouchi falling in line beside her.


End file.
